The rain had been coming down for ours; as I drove down Lehman, the rain caught under my tires and I hydroplaned. Realizing I had lost control, I tried applying the brakes but to no avail. The road sloped down at a 45 degree angle, eventually intersecting the busy State Avenue. Determined not to let the Jeep ride into the middle of the street, I turned it up onto the curb and promptly slammed into a telephone pole. I was thrown forward in the seat, but the seatbelt held me back. I remained sitting in the car for what seemed an eternity as white smoke rose from the hood that had been crushed into a vertical position. I slowly opened my door and stepped out, completely void of emotion. Men, women, and children came sprinting from every direction; they kept asking me if I were injured, and I said, "No, thank you." They called the police for me, and the fire engine arrived first. The telephone pole sustained no damage, but the Jeep was pretty smashed (and the brand new right-side headlight had been shattered; we should've waited on installing it). The police arrived, too, and I worked with the policeman for a little while, figuring out how we'd go about taking care of this problem. Even the S.W.A.T. team came, which I found very surprising.

At least I didn't poop my pants when I hit the pole. My bowel control increases day-by-day.

I'm very confused right now, in the realm of girls. It's hard to explain, so I won't even try. I just pray I make the right decision.

The odd thing is, I'm not even bothered by the accident. GOD will take care of me, this I honestly believe.